Productivity.

Productivity is like a drug for me. I use it to mask, make up, & all too often define myself. I equate who I am to what I do; if I'm not "doing," if I'm not "busy," than who am I? What is my value if I'm not producing something to validate my worth? Sounds mildly ridiculous, I know. The thought patterns behind this way of thinking feel inescapable. I know they're false, yet they are so engrained...

It lends itself to a multitude of evils, this notion of productivity. It controls, by how much it does. It creates the illusion of self-sufficiency, because "I can do it." It lies, by how much it covers up and sits in place of. There's always more, and yet it's never enough.

Productivity in its most basic form is not inherently evil, but it becomes a demon, when taken to it's worst extreme, which I of course do.

How to unlearn this false pattern of thinking...?

That's the question.

I will wait

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igCj3jsbcqs

Psalm 37 [my prayer]

3 Trust [lean on, rely on, and be confident] in the Lord and do good; so you shall dwell in the land and feed surely on His faithfulness, and truly you shall be fed.
4 Delight yourself also in the Lord and He will give you the desires and secret petitions of your heart.
5 Commit your way to the Lord [roll and repose each care of your load on Him]; trust [lean on, rely on, and be confident] also in Him and He will bring it to pass...

Props

I have a picture in my head: I imagine material things like props, and people as naked manikins- help up, supported, self-portrayed, and defined by these, our props. This picture is maybe a bit absurd and could apply only to myself, but just go with the analogy for a minute...

A slip of fabric, a dress. Adorns a body. A piece of metal and screws, a watch. Hangs on a wrist. Leather strips and buckles, sandals. Wrap around bare feet.

Props.

Do we allow such empty, material pieces of the world to define and confine us? I'm afraid I often do. I self-create. In an attempt to cover my nakedness, I seek out and wrap myself up in the props I believe best "fit" me. I have created an idea of myself-the me I want to be-and I support this notion, carry it out, define it, in large part, by the things, the props I pursue. And I would purport--we all do this, in some form or fashion.

But, what if our "props" were taken away? What if we were stripped of everything, material and otherwise, that we believed made us who we are?

Would our naked, manikin selves be recognizable or distinguishable from the rest? It begs the basic, yet difficult question: what makes us who we are? And are we willing to try and separate ourselves enough from the props we pursue to figure out and discern this bare truth?

Exposing inquiries.

Nakedness can be uncomfortable; yet, it's also extremely freeing. However, it requires the willingness to endure the uncomfortable stripping process, and a desire to pursue this level of self-discovery.

So, it begs the question: do we desire it?

Me Myself and I

It's strange, learning to be alone with oneself, myself. I know I've commented on this before, but this is a new something.

A different kind of aloneness, a singularity. It's deeper: mental, spiritual, maybe even metaphysical. Whatever that means.

I didn't even realize how filled my head and my heart have been. I suppose we don't realize how full or occupied we are until we're not. We seem to fill our empty spaces and occupy our vacant places with anything and everything. The idea of space and stillness seems a wretched thing to the modern mind. But, it oughtn't be.

It feels somehow hard to embrace, and awkward-this new solitude of the mind and heart. I am so unused to the practice. Yet, it's welcome too. As strange as it is--this learning to be alone--it's even stranger that I think I might like it. Odd for me. New for me.

I have much to learn in this new space and during this time, and such lessons are not learnt overnight. But, I feel like an eager student on their first day of school, excited and terrified for the learning to begin...

"The answers aren't in your head"

I'm a thinker, and a ponderer of life. An analyzer. And, an over-analyzer. I've always thought that if I thought enough about something I could figure it out. I never stop thinking, figuring, pondering, dwelling. I'm a terrible dweller. People have told me, "Lauren, it would be exhausting to be in your head." And they're right, it's pretty constant. I don't know how to be otherwise. This is just me.

But, I had a friend tell me recently, "Lauren, the answers aren't in your head." Profound. For me, thinking has always lent itself to answers, to understanding, to clarity, but I am finding that is not unanimous in fact. For some things, some circumstances, some answers, there is no amount of thinking or figuring that will alter the outcome. Again, profound. For me. Somewhat discouraging, yet more encouraging in truth. It relieves some of the constant pressure in my head to figure, understand, grasp, manage.

Because after all, the answers aren't in my head...

The abyss

I'm slightly terrified. I feel like I'm walking forward into yet another vast unknown, and it looks very lonely from where I sit.

There is space, emptiness, not knowingness. And it's scary.

What's next?

There is no form or shape, nothing.

Unmapped territory to some is thrilling, to others a terror. I wish I was the type to whom the unknown was an adventure, but it still scares me spit-less. Maybe someday I'll be there.

I could go anywhere, do anything. But can I? I used to believe that, not so much anymore. Real life has set in somewhat. But, what do I really know of real life...

I'm about to walk into the abyss, and I can either stayed scared spit-less, or I can keep walking. I haven't decided yet.

Honesty

They say it's the best policy.

I think it's a beautiful thing myself.

Honesty.

I prize it above most virtues, and strive for it in myself and seek it in others.

It's a wonderful thing when people can be honest with each other. It's so, freeing. And yet, people are so often dishonest with one another, and with themselves.

I think the difficulty is that at it's core honesty is vulnerability. When we're totally honest, we're exposed, all of our cards on the table. It's pretty naked.

And not everyone enjoys being naked. It's uncomfortable, painful. But, there is also a beauty in this nakedness, this honesty.

You risk much when being honest, when being naked--both to gain and to lose. I believe more to gain. But, when we're not honest we're holding back, hiding something, trying to play our cards just right. It's like a game, dishonesty.

And honesty is not safe per say--in that you risk losing much--but it is safe in that you risk gaining far more than you could have imagined. Take the risk.

I prefer reaping honesty. All I have is gratitude for it's outcomes.

It is after all, the best policy.